


Shotgun

by GoodIdeaAtTheTime



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: AU, M/M, Rules of shotgun are discussed, alright definitely smut in chapter 2, probably smut in chapter 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-25
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-27 23:33:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14436561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodIdeaAtTheTime/pseuds/GoodIdeaAtTheTime
Summary: Dorothy Catalonia adopted Duo Maxwell as her 'project' when he got a scholarship to her high school. Now adults, he can't get rid of her, but then her connections introduce him to someone actually worth knowing.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [maevemauvaise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maevemauvaise/gifts).



Duo hadn’t liked Dorothy when he’d first met her.

He wasn’t entirely sure he liked her now, but he was definitely stuck with her.

They’d met in high school, when Duo had improbably managed to get a scholarship to the same elite academy Dorothy was attending, like countless of her family members before her. She had spent a week watching him and making him feel twitchy, before blithely informing him that he was her new project, and she would make a success out of him.

He told her to piss off. She smiled, in that self-satisfied, slightly chilling way.

He hadn’t been able to shake her since. And, maddeningly, she had unerringly guided him to achieve what he wanted. Despite Duo’s innate instinct to just disagree with everything she said as a matter of principle, he wasn’t about to cut off his nose to spite his face. He hadn’t missed the way her nose wrinkled when she realised he went home at night to a tiny, sparse loft room in the children’s home attached to a little church nearby, and had taken a perverse delight in turning down her offer for him to come live with her – although it seemed she had rather enjoyed having someone tell her where to shove it for once. She had tried to get him to tidy himself up, style himself better, so he had grown his hair longer and expanded his collection of battered jeans. Dorothy had surveyed him critically, and then he had found a leather biker jacket and a new pair of boots waiting for him back at home. Father Maxwell didn’t know where they had come from, but Sister Helen had refused to let him get rid of them, even though he knew full well who had bought them.

He mollified himself with the thought that if his pride was bought with a pair of boots, at least they were Doc Martens.

Dorothy had picked up other ‘projects’ during their time first at school, and then at college – the same college, the best college, which Dorothy had somehow managed to smooth Duo’s way into without ever showing her hand, even though he  _ knew _ she was involved somehow. But they never lasted longer than a few months at most.

They never questioned Dorothy either. Instead letting her change every aspect of their lives before being released back into the wild as Catalonia-brand butterflies.

Duo stood his ground. Duo listened when she had something sensible to say, ignored her when she had something irrelevant to say – about what he wore, where he lived, what he ate.  He was no butterfly. He was more like a wasp once he had emerged from his cocoon into the real world of jobs and apartments and other grown up things.

And somehow he and Dorothy kept together – yin and yang, chalk and cheese, oil and water. The Princess and the Pauper. Logic versus emotion. Social domination against personal fulfilment. He couldn’t get rid of her, any more than she could get rid of him. Somehow, despite not really being friends, and not really liking each other, and not really, strictly speaking, entirely trusting each other if you got right down to it, they were the most constant presence in each other’s lives.

“You’re like a stray puppy,” she told him once, over drinks – this time in a bar of his choice, not hers, so she was being pointedly careful about touching as little as possible, long blonde hair pulled over her shoulder to ensure it didn’t accidentally come into contact with something poor. “I fed you once and now you won’t go away.”

“Shut up and drink your cocktail,” Duo told her.

“ _ This _ isn’t a cocktail.”

“It’s got more than two ingredients, it’s a cocktail.”

“Oh, Duo, I hope you don’t say things like that to anyone else. There are people who know you know me. I have my reputation to think about.”

He spent his life straddling two circles. Now an architectural engineer, having gone to the Best school and interned at the Best companies, he had met all the Best people and was invited to all the Best parties, and Dorothy was never far away, smirking as she showed off her pet project like a dog that had learned to walk upright.

Thanks to the gruelling training he had been put through, he could navigate them well enough, and he even had to begrudgingly admit that they were a useful networking tool - particularly as he was starting to set up his own firm specialising in sustainable construction of eco-friendly community buildings and charitable foundations - but he was still viewed as a novelty by a lot of people. The long-haired poor boy who had pulled himself up by his bootlaces and was living the American Dream. He was almost like them, but sometimes he said y’all, and drank beer instead of wine! Wasn’t he funny? But in that harmless way that came with being white, affluent, and sponsored in society by Dorothy Catalonia.

No, he was much more comfortable in slightly worn, comfortable pubs than in Dorothy’s wine bars, all clean lines and shiny counters. He wasn’t worried he was going to leave a smear on the highly polished tabletops here. Yeah, so he might leave some skin on the bar top after his arm got stuck in all the dried beer,  but that suited him just fine.

“You’re coming to the gallery opening on Friday,” Dorothy told him, after taking a reluctant sip of her drink and pulling a face. It wasn’t a question, but Duo pretended it was.

“Unfortunately, yeah.” The gallery was owned by Treize Khushrenada, one of Dorothy’s distant relatives, and irritatingly one of his main donors for his charitable projects.

The exhibition was to show off Treize’s little pet project, some savant who would blow their minds. Zechs, the head curator, wouldn’t shut up about it.

Frankly, Duo would rather stab his eyes out with a fork, but he was going. And he would behave and be nice.

In the long run, it was for charity.

“You’ll wear the black Armani suit,” Dorothy said, “and the red tie.”

“I’m not wearing a tie.”

“And the red tie,” Dorothy repeated firmly, pushing her barely-touched drink away and standing, off to collect her broomstick and meet the coven no doubt. “The purple brings out your eyes, but in that lighting it will wash you out.”

She strode out, somehow not looking like she was rushing at all, heels clicking loudly through the bar. Duo met the bartender’s eyes and they shared a sympathetic look.

Duo got that look a lot when he spent time with Dorothy.

  
  


*

 

He hadn’t worn a tie, but if Dorothy was annoyed about it she hadn’t shown it, irritatingly. She had just cast a brief glance over him, eyes flicking from head to toe and back again, then looked away. Clearly he had been judged acceptable at least.

 

Whatever.

He snagged a glass of champagne off a passing tray and resisted the urge to down it in one. Zech’s sister, Relena, spotted him across the room and waved. Unlike her brother, she always seemed genuinely pleased to see him, and he actually liked her. She and her husband - ah, there he was, never far away - were two of a very small handful of people he actually considered friends. He watched as Relena touched Quatre’s elbow, and the other half of the impossibly blonde, blue-eyed pair turned to see him and smiled brightly.

At least he had identified a safe harbour for the evening, but first - first he had to go pay tribute to his host, the Great and Ginger.

He scanned the crowd casually, trying not to look like he was searching for anyone in particular, when his eyes fell on a different face, a new face, and one which meant that suddenly every thought that had previously been in his head disappeared entirely, and instead all he could think was,  _ That one. I want that one. _

There wasn’t much variety in this society, mostly wealthy white people, groomed and styled in a specific range of fashions, almost as though a group of them sat down once a year and decided  what people should and shouldn’t wear, then it was circulated appropriately. Usually, Duo’s long braid was just about the only unusual thing in a sea of suits and cocktail dresses, and he was enough of a novelty without that anyway.

The man stood across the room was gorgeous. Chinese, he was dressed in a traditional silk suit, high-necked, with loose trousers and a long tunic, all black, with the embroidery shining in the light as he lifted his arm to sip boredly at his champagne. His hair was loose, straight and inky black down over his shoulders, and his expression as he surveyed the assembled masses showed the same level of unimpressed disdain as Duo usually felt. Like some kind of kindred spirit.

An extremely attractive kindred spirit.

Before he even realised he was moving, Duo was halfway across the room towards him, until Treize swept into his path, startling him back to reality.

“Duo, I’m glad you could make it,” Treize said, smooth as ever, his handshake firm and sure. “You didn’t seem sure when we last spoke.”

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Duo said, the smile came so easily now, he was very practiced at smiling honestly, and shaking hands like a man they could trust, like one of them. “We’ve got a couple’a projects on, weren’t sure if we’d be pullin’ all nighters for a bit.”

“...I could listen to you speak all day,” Treize said, after a long pause, smiling slightly dreamily. “The cadences of your accent are quite musical. What do you think of the art?”

He hadn’t actually looked at it yet, but he followed the sweep of Treize’s gesture to the paintings on the walls. Lots of black ink painted with a calligraphy brush from the look of things, thick lines and confident strokes, but instead of letters there were forms painted - in movement, in stillness, people and animals - and through the black, splashes of colour, some brighter, some paler, throwing the thick lines into even more prominent relief against explosions of paint.

“It’s… very pretty. Nice colours. I like… the lines.”

Treize laughed at that, apparently tickled by Duo’s assessment, and Duo had to stamp down the familiar rising urge to just reach out and choke the man, fuelled by years of feeling like everything he said was just a joke to everyone around him. Instead he kept his smile in place, and waiting until Treize had finished, touching a finger lightly to the corner of his eye as if to dab away a tear.

“Yes,” he agreed. “The colours  _ are _ … nice.  You’ll have to come meet the artist, I’m sure he’d love to hear your feedback.”

Oh good, not content with mocking him for his lack of high culture, Duo was now going to be toured around for the amusement of everyone else. He was resigning himself to postponing his meeting with the beautiful man in black, until he realised Treize was steering Duo towards him.

Oh.

Oh no.

Duo did  _ not _ want to be made a fool of in front of the very pretty man. The very pretty, apparently very talented artist.

Of course.

“I’ll… meet him later,” Duo said hastily, deftly twisting out of Treize’s grip. “After I’ve had some more time to… appreciate it all a little more. ‘Scuse me…”

Backing away two steps and smiling gamely at Treize, Duo then quickly disappeared between the large, temporary walls which were adorned with art. A blessing, setting up a small maze in which he could lose himself and hopefully hide until the joke had passed.

He  _ really _ hadn’t wanted to come.

  
  


*

 

Duo had managed to avoid the beautiful artist all evening, silently cursing Treize for dangling something so wonderful in front of him knowing that he could never have it.

Throughout his own life, Duo had never actively coveted anything other people had. Particularly not the people Dorothy introduced him to. Yes, they were fabulously wealthy, had everything money could buy, lived the life of luxury. Duo didn’t need all that. Didn’t want all that.

Damn that man had been gorgeous, but instead of getting to know him, Duo was moping into a large whisky.

“I heard you liked my art,” came a deep, dry voice behind him. “You thought the colours were nice.”

Duo allowed himself the luxury of briefly hiding his face in his hand and groaning deep in his throat, before he straightened up and turned, leaning back against the bar and raising his glass in a toast. The Chinese man smirked at him, eyebrow quirked in amusement, and tilted his own glass of champagne in response.

Oh good grief.

“It’s actually a relief to get an honest opinion,” the artist said, moving up to stand beside him. “Unless everyone in this room actually  _ is _ an art critic from the same school of thought, which seems statistically unlikely. I’m Wufei.”

“Duo. Don’t worry, you’ll never get informed opinions on art from me.”

“No great thoughts on Raphael or Michelangelo?”

“Weren’t they ninja turtles?”

Wufei snorted on his mouthful of champagne, and the twinkle in his eyes was just about the sexiest thing that Duo had ever seen. Well, maybe Treize hadn’t quite managed to torpedo him, but there was no way he could date the man’s latest protege. For a start, odds were good Treize was already there.

“It’s a new experience not to be the sole novelty amongst Treize’s acquaintance,” Wufei said, after a pause. “I’ve never before been told that there is someone ‘I just  _ have _ to meet’.” His impersonation of Treize was uncanny and a little unsettling. “Tell me, what makes you such a ‘pill’?”

“Aw geez, I dunno…” Duo made a show of thinking hard about it, even as he gestured for his drink to be topped up, Immediately, if not sooner. “It must be my dashin’ good looks, winnin’ smile and charmin’ personality.”

He shot Wufei a dazzling smile as he said it, as if to illustrate. The other man tilted his head to the side slightly, and studied him carefully, that smirk still playing on his lips. His gaze ran - or, more like took a leisurely stroll - across Duo from his head, down to his feet and right back up again, before he turned back to his drink.

“Yes,” he said. “I suppose that must be it.”

The new whisky was nearly finished in one nervous gulp after that display, and Duo was almost disappointed he hadn’t worn a tie because now he couldn’t loosen it to try and cool off. He let his eyes rove around the room - anything to avoid appearing too interested in the man beside him - but in doing so he caught two separate sets of blue eyes watching him closely from two different parts of the room.

Damn.

He turned to set his glass on the bar and smiled at Wufei, his usual brilliant smile reserved especially for these occasions.

“I’ve gotta bounce, but it was great meetin’ you. We’ll have to do this again sometime.”

Wufei looked a little startled, but nodded, and raised his hand to match the wave Duo sketched him, before Duo turned and began to saunter out, waving goodbye to Treize and winking at Dorothy.

He was going to be hearing about this in the morning.

  
  


*

  
  


“We’ve talked about you learning subtlety,” Dorothy declared, breezing into the room, ignoring Trowa as he held the door open for her. Instead she sashayed across to where Duo was working and perched on his desk, her skirt falling right across what he was trying to read. “You need to start applying it. Immediately.”

“Good morning, Dorothy,” Trowa said dryly, closing the door and heading back to his own desk, “I can’t say how good it is to see you again. I’m doing well thanks.”

The most acknowledgement he got was Dorothy waving a dismissive hand at him whilst she waited for Duo to give up on trying to pull his paperwork out from underneath her without tearing it. Finally he admitted defeat and sat back in his chair, glaring up at her and hoping at least she would be quick if he didn’t argue.

Who was he kidding, of course he was going to argue.

“What do you want?” he asked, resisting the urge to rub away the headache he could feel forming simply from her presence. That was the sort of sign of weakness she would pounce on with prejudice.

“For you to use some of those holes in your skull to take in my advice,” Dorothy said acidly. “That display last night was worse than I’d come to expect from even you.”

“It’s not like we were makin’ out on the bar,” Duo protested, and suddenly Trowa seemed a lot more interested in the conversation, looking up from his work and quirking his eyebrow at Duo across their desks.

“That might have been better, all things considered.” Dorothy’s nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought, pulling off her gloves daintily as she looked around the office. Heero chose that point to reappear from the kitchen, mug of hot coffee in hand, and he froze when he saw Dorothy, frown deepening.

“Why is she here?” he asked the room.

“She’s telling Duo off for hooking up last night,” Trowa said.

“I didn’t hook up with anyone!”

“Goodness knows everyone could tell you wanted to,” Dorothy said with no little exasperation.

“We’ve talked about her coming here,” Heero said, not moving from where he had stopped. “We agreed she wasn’t going to do that any more.”

“This was an emergency,” Dorothy told him, not taking her gaze off Duo in the chair below her. “A social emergency.”

“There’s no such thing,” Heero said firmly. “You could have called him.”

“But then we wouldn’t have got the juicy details,” Trowa said, propping his elbow on his desk and resting his chin on his hand. “Spill, Duo, who caught your eye?”

“Shut up. Dorothy, go away, I’ve got work to do.”

Dorothy rolled her eyes and tutted, swatting at his hand with her glove as he tried to reach for his paperwork again.

“Tread carefully,” she warned him, not speaking until he was making eye contact with her. “My darling cousin has his owns plans for his… ' _ exotic treasure _ ’, you don’t want him to think you’re treading on his toes.”

“Can’t you just throw Zechs at him and give the rest of us a break?” Duo muttered sourly, and Dorothy laughed, finally standing in a swish of skirts, sending half of Duo’s work onto the floor.

“Oh, Zechs Merquise as a projectile weapon, that does have some merit to it,” she agreed. “We’ll talk tonight.”

“Can’t wait.”

Dorothy smiled, that cold, sweet smile she used on everyone, and waltzed out the office, maintaining eye contact with Heero as she swept past his desk, running her hand over it and disrupting all his carefully arranged work as she went. Heero didn’t move from the kitchen until the door had clicked firmly shut behind her, and then he stormed over to his desk, painstakingly rearranging everything Dorothy had upset, glowering at Duo as he did so.

“She’s not supposed to come here,” Heero told Duo.

“Man, I know that. I don’t want her here.”

“If she comes to the apartment this evening, I’m moving out,” Heero added.

Trowa snorted softly, watching Heero with amused affection.

“If this where I remind you that you’re not Duo’s roommate, I am?” Trowa asked calmly. “You just sleep over. A lot.”

“Do you want me to stop doing that?”

“Fair point. Duo, Dorothy  _ no bueno _ .”

“Right, got it.” Duo sighed and turned back to his paperwork, propped his chin on his hand and sulking. He’d known Wufei was off-limits, and he hadn’t planned on seeing the guy again anyway, but now he felt like he’d been told off for daydreaming about him all day.

Fucking Dorothy.

 

*

Duo had managed to get out of telling Trowa any more about his night by making a point of texting Dorothy, in front of them, to say that if she wanted to talk then it would have to be at a bar. What had then followed was a predictable round of negotiations, which Duo had thought he had done pretty well with - except he was currently sitting in a fancy wine bar, perched on a ridiculous stool, wearing another fucking  _ suit _ …

“I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

That wasn’t Dorothy’s voice. That was a different voice. A voice of a register much more appealing to Duo.

Turning in his seat, there was Wufei, wearing a deep blue button down, a pair of grey slacks that fitted him  _ sinfully _ well, a jacket draped over his arm and an expectant expression on his face.

“Hey, no, not at all!” Duo scrambled to his feet, trying not to fall off the stool as he did so. “It’s great to see you again.”

“After your hurry to leave last night, I wasn’t sure I would,” Wufei drawled, taking a perch on a stool with a slightly amused expression when Duo pulled it out for him. “I worried that I’d scared you off. The reactions can be rather split sometimes amongst this set.”

“To what?”

“To… being gay.”

Duo choked on the sip of wine he’d taken, hastily grabbing a napkin - fabric, what was the point in a fabric napkin? - to dab up the mess. Wufei watched him calmly, that face apparently always fixed to mildly amused but otherwise unreadable. By the time he’d recovered, Wufei had acquired a second wine glass and was helping himself to the bottle on the table.

“Better?” Wufei asked mildly, swirling the red liquid in his glass.

“Yeah, I’m - look, man, I don’t have a problem with you bein’ gay -”

“But you aren’t?” Wufei finished. “I must say, you’re giving off some very mixed signals for a straight man.”

“Oh god no, those’re -” Shit,  _ shit _ , Dorothy told him to be discrete and now look at him, Jesus maybe he should listen to her from time to time. “Look,” he said finally, straightening in his chair and clearing his throat, “few things - first, I’m not part of that ‘set’, to them I’m more like… the mascot.”

“Like those men in the big costumes?” Wufei looked like he was enjoying this immensely as he sipped his wine. “They trot you out at the big occasions for extra moral and to boost the crowd?”

“I - yeah. Just like that. Second, I’m bi, so like you were  _ definitely _ pickin’ up the right signals, but that brings me onto the third point; I think Treize has kinda called ‘dibs’, so… It wouldn’t be wise for this to happen.”

Duo said the last in a rush, with a wince, and that ridiculously sexy eyebrow quirked at him.

“Treize has ‘called dibs’? Last I checked, I wasn’t a piece of cake.”

“No, I mean -”

“I was unaware the rules of ‘shotgun’ applied to people - I assume this is a similar principal?” Wufei set his glass on the table with precision. “In which case, allow me to call shotgun on you.”

It took a moment for that to filter through the white noise of blood rushing through Duo’s ears.

“‘Scuse me?”

“Well as I understand it,” Wufei said dryly, speaking as though he were explaining an extremely complex concept to an extremely simple person, “shotgun can only be called when you are in view of the - er - vehicle, which in this instance would be you; and once shotgun is called, it cannot be overruled by another party. Ergo, I have called shotgun, so thus I have incontrovertible rights to you, as laid out by the rules of shotgun.”

Duo stared at him for a long moment, watching that small smirk start to curve Wufei’s lips, and an answering grin tug at his own mouth.

“I actually know a way to challenge ‘shotgun’, but that involves droppin’ trousers, so you may not be interested…”

“Oh no,” Wufei said, his voice dropping a little as he leaned in more closely, “I’m very interested in dropping your trousers. Tell me more.”

“What about Treize?” Duo asked, hating himself even as he asked it. “He kinda influences a lot of my donors, so I  _ really _ don’t wanna tread on his toes here…”

“I have been very clear that whilst I appreciate Mr. Khushrenada’s sponsorship of my art, I am emphatically not interested in anything other than a professional relationship with him. A fact I firmly reiterated just this morning.”

“I see…”

“I understand his cousin arranged for him to have drinks with Mr. Merquise, so that he didn’t - ah -  _ wallow _ too much this evening.”

Wufei was so close now, Duo could smell the wine on his breath, and it smelled so much better than it had in the glass. Some frantic voice at the back of his brain was trying to work out if he had drastically misjudged Dorothy all these years, but the rest of his brain was instead focusing on the way the red wine had started to stain Wufei’s lips, dark and tempting.

“I see,” Duo murmured. “Then, I guess your shotgun overrules his dibs.”

“I believe that is how the rules go.”

“You know a lot about this sort of thing.”

“It’s a subject I felt merited some research,” Wufei purred - actually  _ purred _ . “Would you like me to demonstrate further?”

Some invitations just couldn’t be turned down.

 

*


	2. Chapter 2

They had barely made it through Wufei’s front door before his lips were on Duo’s, tugging his head down and pressing him back against the door as it shut with a clatter behind him. For all Wufei was shorter than him, the artist was more muscled - probably something to do with that martial arts he had mentioned as they had worked their way through two bottles of wine before heading back here.

Duo could still taste the wine in Wufei’s mouth, rich and fruity, but it tasted so much better when combined with Wufei’s flavours than it had out of the glass. He had never much bought into wine tasting, but maybe he’d just been doing it wrong all these years. Groaning, he tried to pull Wufei closer and tug his clothes off at the same time, frustrated when it wasn’t possible.

Eventually, possibly worried that Duo’s questing hands were going to tear his expensive shirt, Wufei stepped back - remarkably sure-footed and in control for a man who had drunk the equivalent of a bottle of wine on his own - and tugged Duo away from the door. Duo followed as if hypnotised, senses flooded with Wufei and erection throbbing. The Chinese man’s lips were swollen from kissing, and stained dark with wine, his face flushing as he began to unbutton his shirt with one hand, leading Duo across the room with the other. Each new button which popped free revealed a new glimpse of firm muscle and tanned skin. Evenly tanned, Duo noticed, which brought to mind some wonderful images of nude sunbathing.

Maybe Wufei had intended some kind of sensual striptease, but Duo was too impatient for that nonsense. Instead he closed the distance between them again, bracketing Wufei against the back of the sofa and batting his hands away to take over the job of stripping off his shirt as he captured the other man’s mouth once more, grinding their hips together.

Wufei groaned into the kiss, deepening it and bracing himself against the sofa to push back against the sensation. Whilst Duo pushed his shirt aside, Wufei worked to strip off Duo’s jacket, and then deftly unbuttoned his shirt, only fumbling when Duo managed to undo his trousers and slip a hand inside, pushing aside soft boxers to wrap his hand around the hard, dripping cock waiting for him there. He groaned again and Duo answered, the sound was deep and Duo wanted to hear it again and again. He pumped his hand as he bit and sucked at Wufei’s neck, the other man’s hips flexing in time with his strokes, his back arching into the pleasure.

And then, somehow, Duo’s shirt had been pushed off his shoulders and twisted down to catch at his wrists, Wufei slipping out of his grasp and pulling the fabric and wrapping it to pin Duo’s arms behind his back. His palm was warm and flat between Duo’s shoulder blades, pushing him forwards until he was bent over the back of the sofa, chest resting on the cushions and unable to move.

“What - ?”

“I called shotgun,” Wufei purred. His hands stroked down Duo’s back, over his hips, and then around the cup him through the fabric of his trousers, whilst a very promising bulge ground against Duo’s ass, now positioned at just the right angle.

_ Oh _ .

“Is that what you kids are calling it nowadays?” Duo managed, although it ended in a moan as Wufei’s clever hands undid his belt and fly, one hand exploring the lines of his erection whilst the other pushed the fabric off his hips, letting it fall down his legs. Calloused fingers charted his length and girth, felt the weight and mapped out the veins, before tracing their way up and circling the flared head, spreading the moisture that had collected there and using it to lubricate a few swift, shallow strokes that left Duo gasping.

He had no leverage, bent and bound as he was, so when Wufei disappeared, he could only try to twist and see where his host had gone. Whilst it wouldn’t be beyond the boundaries of possibility that Treize had arranged this to humiliate him, and Wufei was leaving to fetch some people who would point and laugh, Duo didn’t get the impression that Wufei was that type of guy that had patience for that sort of game.

He really,  _ really _ hoped he had judged that right.

“You look really good like that.”

Duo felt himself relax at the deep, throaty rumble that signalled Wufei’s return, whilst his erection pulsed as the voice rolled through him.

“Thought you’d ditched me,” he joked weakly, and then let out a helpless moan as he felt a cool, slick finger massaging right where he wanted it.

“Never,” Wufei said, and then the finger was pushed gently inside, whilst another hand hand reached around and was teasing the head of his cock again, smearing precum around the slit and rubbing against that sensitive spot on the underside that made Duo gasp and tremble. “But I’ve always found my art turns out best if I take a moment to stand back and observe it fully whilst I’m making it.”

A second finger joined the first, and stroked and stretched, and the heat inside Duo’s belly was growing, pulsing out through his body in glorious, heady waves. They crooked and searched, and then hit  _ just _ the right spot that had him whimpering and trying to press back against them even as he was thrusting his cock into that loose, teasing grip.

By the time a third finger was added and removed, Duo was a helpless mess, unable to move his legs apart because of the trousers trapped over his shoes, unable to gain more purchase because of the shirt binding his arms and his precarious position. He was entirely at Wufei’s mercy, and that just made the whole thing sexier.

Then there was the familiar feeling of a cock pressing into him, and it was a good thing Wufei was strong, and Duo didn’t have much purchase, because he almost pressed back as hard as he could to impale himself, and would probably have done himself a mischief. Instead he felt one arm press down on his back to hold him in place, the other hand tightening slightly around his cock as slowly, agonisingly slowly, he felt himself stretch around the intrusion. Unable to spread his legs further to make the access easier, things were tight, and he felt every glorious inch as it filled him. He buried his face in the couch cushion, trying to muffle the unholy noises he was making as his heart pounded in his ears. He could feel every twitch of Wufei’s erection inside him, every slight movement as the other man adjusted his weight and found a stance he was happy with.

He was vaguely aware of Wufei lifting his braid off his back, but then he felt the dull pain of it being tugged, and he had to tilt his head up to accommodate as it was pulled taut and tight, forcing him to arch. The hand on his cock disappeared, moved to grip his hip tightly, and Duo could picture it - one hand to hold him in place, the other wrapped in his braid like a rein. The throbbing pressure at the base of his skull cut through the pleasure haze deliciously and he groaned.

“That’s it,” Wufei grunted, and slowly eased his way out until only the thick tip was inside of Duo, teasing at the nerve endings around his entrance. “I want to hear you.”

His hips slammed forwards and the noise Duo made was animalistic as he saw stars, his whole body rocked against the sofa. Wufei set a punishing pace, slamming into him and Duo shamelessly, helplessly rode it out. He begged for more, he thanked whatever god there was, he dissolved into needy, primal noises as Wufei pounded into him again and again. His body was a mess of pleasure, and his cock was hot and thick, dribbling onto the wood floor below.

Wufei leaned forwards, putting more weight on his back, and tugging at Duo’s hair, and then the hand was around his erection again, gripping hard and tugging roughly. Duo’s vision went white, and his whole body short-circuited, pleasure and pain overwhelming his senses and crashing through him, his hips jerking and his muscles tensing as he pumped cum in thick, heavy bursts over Wufei’s hand, and probably his sofa and floor.

He could feel Wufei’s thrusts becoming erratic, harder and more desperate, and then the jerking, instinctive motions which came with orgasm, but Duo’s higher brain functions were currently taking a brief vacation, with no indication of their expected return time.

Eventually the roaring of blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart subsided, and the gasping breaths he had been drawing slowed into something more normal, more relaxed, as he flopped bonelessly over the sofa, glad it was there to take his weight. Wufei’s weight was warm over him, but it lifted, and then he felt his arms being deftly untangled, and when they were freed he let them drop to his side with some relief. And then his shoes were being untied and he was being coaxed to step out of them and his trousers, and guided upright.

The kiss they had then was sweet and slow and sleepy, and Duo hummed happily into it, allowing himself to be herded down the hallway, into a bathroom and under the warm spray of a shower, remembering to take his socks off only at the last second.

Leaning out of the water as he twisted his braid up onto the top of his head and out of the way, he grinned at Wufei, who was busy tying off a very full condom and dropping it in the trash.

“I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine,” he offered with a saucy eyebrow waggle. That got a huff of laughter and a lazy smirk, and then Wufei was stepping up next to him, and the water was sliding off all those wonderful muscles, and Duo had to be sure to clean him very thoroughly. All over.

It was quite a long shower.

 

*

 

By the time they had dried off, it was late, and Duo was more than happy to accept Wufei’s invitation to stay over. Rummaging his phone out of his pants pocket - after retrieving them from the living room floor and hanging them with a bit more care over a chair - he saw he had a message from Dorothy.

_ You’re welcome. You owe me _ .

He suppressed a groan as he powered it down, and then turned to see Wufei reclining on the bed and watching him with some heat in his gaze.

Well, if he was going into debt with Dorothy for it, he might as well get his money’s worth.

 

*

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday MaeveMauvaise!!! I hope you had a wonderful day. I'm sorry I didn't finish this all in time, but at least there was a natural stopping point to split it.
> 
> Thanks as ever to Kangofu-cb for the beta read and support.


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